The Relationship Between Love and Heartbreak
by TwistingKaleidoscope
Summary: Because in the cold numbness, there is always some kind of solace. KB/RC


**Disclaimed.**

**Summary: **Because in the cold numbness, there is always some kind of solace. KB/RC

**Author's Note: **I'm not quite sure of this, but I wanted to share anyway. Please review and share your thoughts! (: I was inspired by one of my friend's Facebook statuses "Is this goodbye?" And somehow, this was formed. I do hope you enjoy.

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><p><strong>The Relationship Between Love and Heartbreak<strong>

There are things in the world that people will never comprehend. Even those with the most complex minds were not made to understand some things. Such as, why is there hurt? And pain? How can one part of the body, only a muscle, truly, cause so much misery in a person? Games, games are played only to destroy, only to break, only to drive into an endless cavern of the worst things beyond imagination. It might be better to go without thinking, without feeling. To go on living in a haze of lies just to stay numb. Because, in the cold numbness, there is always some kind of solace.

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><p>"Where are you going?" The desperation is clear. The underlying heartbreak causes the falter in the question and it falls flat. Tears threaten to spill, but the determination that she will not break, that he will not break her, keeps them in track. Still, she breathes heavily and straightens her back. She wants to jump forward and grasp his hand in hers, pull him back to her, and return everything to how it was, but she cannot.<p>

He sighs, heavily. His thoughts seem to fit along the line of hers. "I don't know." His voice is quite, seemingly resigned and after fighting so long, so hard to get her, the thought of him giving in seems impossibility.

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><p>Those that have the most power to hurt are the ones loved the most. Those that are trusted the most are given the ability to break down the ones that were trusted into shells of their former selves. There are none truly wise, except for those who decide to hide themselves from the vulnerability when dependence on another is formed. And weakness is not determined by physical strength or mental capabilities, but rather by the willingness to depend on others. But then, in a sense, are the weak those with the most courage? And by association, are those the ones with true strength?<p>

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><p>She is the one who caused this turmoil, this unrest. She knows this, but he disagrees vehemently. She remembers the times before this began. She had never been as happy. Life had never felt so full, especially when it was empty. Her favorite sentences now begin with remember when.<p>

She imagines she is how she is now because he rebuilt her to how she is and she allowed him too. Without him, she is nothing, the shell left behind after molting. Because he is the one who built her, he can break her too.

"Is this the end?"

She shouldn't be asking. Before, she never did. Before, she was in charge, in control. Now, she doesn't know where she is.

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><p>And although those have the most power to hurt are the ones loved the most, those who hurt the most are often loved senselessly. But is love in itself not senseless? Love frightens both the weak and wise, strong and dumb. But what is it that frightens them? Love is only a chemical reaction in the brain. It is not love that frightens them, then, is it? It is the chance that is taken. The vulnerability when that final step is bridged that repels because of the unreliability of people.<p>

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><p>She assumes that he misses who she was before because they were stronger then and better. More like themselves. Unlike imposters.<p>

"Do you want it to?" This time it is him who falters, who voice cracks from exhaustion or heartbreak, or a combination of both. The circles below his eyes are more prominent now, the lines on his face deeper. Sadness seems permanently etched into him and it is clear in the air around him. She wonders if people notice the same about her.

Her stomach aches, but it always does. The pain in her chest, however, is more serious. And she would think of it as a welcomed relief, if it wasn't due to this.

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><p>The next day is never guaranteed, only imagined, only dreamt. Feelings change as the world does. Separation is not only caused by people, but by the cruelness of the world and the fury of nature and God. The next moment is never certain. There are too many factors to determine what will happen. And the human brain cannot comprehend these things. Humans are not in control and although some deny the existence of a higher power, what else, if not God, causes these things to happen. Puppets remain still unless controlled by a puppet master. And that is the vulnerability.<p>

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><p>She doesn't remember that day; thoughts of it were lost after she had woken. And she thinks that it is better that way, but with the absence of those blessed moments before, when she lived in ignorance and bliss, she feels robbed. But even those memories, now, are haunted with the truth of reality. Of what is. And what will never be. She remembers the pain afterwards though and not just the physical, she remembers the rehabilitation and how he never once left her side, despite the pain and hurt that he never could disguise.<p>

She breathes, although she would be fine if she never did again. "I don't know what I want." She sounds broken and it reminds her of what she lost.

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><p>Still, even those, who are most determined not to fall into the standards, do. Those who live cautiously determined to not depend on another fall helplessly and irrevocably in love or become attached more than ever thought possible to another, whether a child or lover. It is a natural occurrence in the world that will never be understood. Yet there are those who will never cease in striving to that point.<p>

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><p>She makes a decision.<p>

"This isn't goodbye." She kisses his forehead with a sad smile. A single tear fights its way down her cheek. "Only, until we'll meet again." She tucks a paper underneath his pillow, careful not to wake him. "It's more hopeful, that way." She repeats before walking out the door, away from her life.

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><p>Love isn't certain, but heartbreak almost always is.<p> 


End file.
